


Post-It

by Zoelily



Series: Cockles Moments [9]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Cockles Cooperative, Gratuitous use of post-it notes, M/M, Poetry, Salute to Supernatural Las Vegas Convention, Valentine Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 12:03:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9819701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoelily/pseuds/Zoelily
Summary: Misha's poetry isn't just for SnapChat





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Cockles Cooperative Valentines 1k Fic Derby, even though it's both after Valentine's Day and over 1k. *shrugs* What can I say...rule following isn't my thing.
> 
> Thanks to Desirae for the once over. All remaining errors are mine.
> 
> All poets are credited.

The post-it note was haphazardly stuck to the centre of the mirror in the hotel bathroom where Jensen couldn’t possibly miss it.  Tilted on an angle on a single ‘Barbie-pink’ square, in Misha’s instantly recognizable printing, were a few lines of prose.  
  
**‘ _I believe in kindness.  Also in mischief.  Also in singing, especially when singing is not necessarily prescribed.’ – Mary Oliver_**  
  
His much needed shower momentarily forgotten, Jensen grabbed his phone out of his back pocket and swiped to his commonly used contacts for his friend’s picture, pressing the call icon.  He smiled as Misha’s sleepy voice answered on the first ring.  
  
“So when did you break and enter with a stack of pretty pink post-it notes?”  Jensen asked, wandering over to the floor to ceiling window to look out over the bright Vegas skyline.  
  
“S’hardly breaking and entering when one has a key to your room, Jen,” Misha mumbled in reply.  “I snuck in when the show was over.  Knew you’d be tied up for a bit with the groupies after your ‘rock-god’ performance.  Figured I’d have time to get in and out.”  
  
Jensen leaned against the cool glass and smiled into the phone.  “So you were there?  I thought you weren’t feeling well?”  
  
Misha snuffled softly.  “I’m feeling pretty fucking crappy actually, but like the note said, hearing you sing was pretty therapeutic.  Your voice always makes me feel better, and turns me into a sappy romantic, apparently.”  
  
“Aw, well the note was very sweet, although the mischief part has me a little worried.  You didn’t short-sheet my bed or something, did you?”  
  
“I’m hurt that you would expect that of me, especially in my current frail state.”  
  
Jensen chuckled, easily imagining the mock offended look on Misha’s face.  He felt bad for the man.  Misha’s schedule was heavier than anyone else’s at cons, and to have to push through it with a cold was the worst.  He wandered over to the comfortable looking couch in the centre of the lavish suite and sank down to toe off his boots.  As he tipped his head back, it hit him just how tired he actually was.  Misha must be barely conscious and they both had a full day of photos and auto’s ahead, not to mention the gold panel he needed to be awake for.  
  
“You better get some sleep, love,” he whispered, hoping Misha would listen for once and put his own needs first.  
  
“Yeah, I’ll see you in the morning, Jensen.”   
  
Before Jensen could reply, the line was already dead.  He stretched his arms above his head, contemplating whether he could just skip the shower, but he knew he’d sleep better if he washed off the sweat from the nerves and stage lights.   
  
Fifteen minutes later, Jensen was feeling much cleaner, and definitely ready to crash.  He plugged his phone into the charger on the nightstand and lowered himself exhaustedly on to the plush king size bed.  That’s when he noticed the Hershey kisses in a little pile on the pillow with a second post-it tucked underneath, this one lime green; more familiar handwriting with a hastily drawn heart accompanying it.

**_‘Your caresses enfold me, like climbing vines on melancholy walls.’ – Pablo Neruda  
  
_** Clearly Misha’s leaning towards poetry lately wasn’t exclusively for snap chat.  He loved that Misha could recite verses from memory that could invoke such feeling and emotion.  Jensen sighed and picked up one of the kisses, unwrapped it, and popped it in his mouth, delighting in the sweetness as the chocolate melted over his tongue.  _Thanks, Mish_ , he thought to himself as he pulled up the comforter and sheet and settled in for sleep.  When his feet wouldn’t actually go any further down the bed no matter how much he tried to push the sheets he started to laugh out loud to the empty room.  
  
“Misha, you fucker!  Frail state, my ass!”  
  
The following morning was rushed, as Sunday mornings generally are.  Jensen found himself on stage with not only his usual coffee, but a donut as well.  The panel went well, and before he knew it, he found himself in the photo op room.  
  
“Ready for another day of hugs, tears, strange props, and general embarrassment?” Chris asked with a chuckle as he was checking the lights.  Stephanie wandered up with another cup of steaming black coffee and waved it in front of his nose teasingly.  
  
“Oh, you’re an angel, Steph!” Jensen moaned, grabbing the cup out of her hand and pulling her in for a one armed squeeze.  Turning them both towards Chris and holding up his coffee he replied with a quick wink “Always ready for anything.  Pretty much have to be with this crowd.”  
  
Misha chose that moment to stride into the room looking considerably healthier than the day before.  “So does that mean when one of the ladies asks you to kiss me you’re gonna do it?”  
  
Jensen tipped his head back and laughed.  “Right, Mish.  I think we better pass on that one.  We don’t need to be calling any ambulances.”  
  
“I think we’re ready, Jensen,” one of the volunteers called out, causing Stephanie to step back and pat him on the shoulder, leaving him and Misha alone for a moment before the crowds moved in.  
  
“Thanks for the post-its yesterday, babe.  You’re spoiling me,” Jensen whispered, slipping his hand in Misha’s and giving it a quick squeeze.  “I enjoyed one of your kisses last night, right before I had to fix my short-sheeted bed.”  
  
Misha pulled him in for a hug.  “You know you love me anyway.”  
  
They reluctantly pulled apart and Jensen nodded with a soft smile.  “Now get out of here and let me work, Dmitri.”    
  
“As you wish, Jackles,” Misha smirked, and turned to sneak out the side door.  
  
Jensen went to grab his phone out of his back pocket to check for any texts before starting the photo op line, and stuck to it was yet another post-it, this time yellow, and a few hand-written words.  
  
**_‘You said your heart was a trapdoor.  We kept falling through.’ – Rebecca Lindenberg  
  
_** If the first few fans wondered why Jensen had such a sappy smile on his face in their photo ops, it would only be speculation anyway. ** _  
  
_** Jensen soon found out that post-it notes were a bit of a Vegas convention theme.  With the memory loss episode having just aired that week, fans had jumped on the bandwagon in photo ops and he and Jared were being stuck with the damn things all day.  He couldn’t help but smile when he realized that Misha had been ahead of the game.  It didn’t surprise him.  The man was always a leader, never a follower.  
  
The pace of the afternoon went quickly.  Photos, meet and greet, afternoon panel, then more photos.  He loved conventions.  He genuinely enjoyed spending time with the fans, his SPN family, but it was exhausting as well.  He stopped in the green room for a Redbull before heading up for photo ops with Misha.  Jensen always wanted to be on his game for those.  The fans loved their playful interactions, and so did he.  
  
Misha and Jared were just finishing up when he entered through the side door.  He stood to the side, moving his hips to the music, watching the last few fans enjoy their time with his friends.  The few seconds they got with their idols was so important to them, it always warmed his heart.  Even after so many years, it still amazed him the impact the show had on people; the family that they’d somehow created.  It was humbling and something he was insurmountably proud of.  
  
While he’d been lost in thought, the photo op line had finished, and Misha and Jared had wandered over.  
  
“What cloud was your head lost on?” Jared asked, between chugs from a bottle of water.  
  
Jensen shook his head to clear it.  “Just appreciating what we have.”  
  
Misha nodded, clearly understanding where Jensen was coming from.  “So, Jen.  You ready to go play Destiel?”  
  
“Pretty sure most of the time they have us playing ourselves, Mish.  You know that, right?”  
  
“Of course,” Misha smirked.  “So let’s go give them what they want.”  
  
Jared rolled his eyes.  “You two are gross and I’m outta here before the eye-fucking starts.”   
  
Jensen figured that was their cue to be as gross as possible in _sort of_ polite company, at least in front of volunteers and Chris, so he tipped his head onto Misha’s shoulder and fluttered his eyelashes directly at Jared.  His giant friend backed out of the room with his hands in the air as if to say, _I give up_.  
  
Jensen grabbed Misha possessively by the arm and danced them over to the backdrop.  “Let’s do this!”  
  
Photo ops with Misha were always the most fun.  They chose some upbeat classic rock and Chris played along.  Some of the poses requested of them were ridiculous, and some were downright dirty.  Some they had to say no to just on principle, but others they had fun with.  The ones where they needed to be close, they often took advantage of, touching each other as much as they could get away with, squeezing hands, rubbing shoulders, caressing chests; they played it up for the fans, and they enjoyed it for each other.   
  
About half way through the line, they stopped for a moment to grab a few sips of water from the nearby table.  Jensen slipped his phone from his back pocket and swiped to check for messages as he had a tendency to do whenever he had a minute – a habit he’d gotten into since becoming a father.  All he’d missed was a recent text from Misha.  He glanced up at the man in question who just gave him a knowing grin.  Tapping to open the text, all he saw was a photo of another post-it, this one bright blue.  Jensen enlarged the photo to be able to read the writing on the note.  
  
**_“You must not ever stop being whimsical. And you must not, ever, give anyone else the responsibility for your life.” – Mary Oliver  
  
_** Jensen couldn’t help but place his palm on Misha’s chest.  His back was to the line so he knew they couldn’t see him.  
  
“The poems, Mish.  Why?”  
  
Misha’s blue eyes had that near ethereal glow that Castiel’s sometimes had in the harshness of all the additional lighting and they were trained directly on his.  
  
“Poetry has been an escape for me lately – from the harshness of reality.  Some of them are just take me to places that give me a break, and some of them remind me of specific people or times in my life.  These particular verses made me think of you.  The post-its, after this week’s episode, just seemed like a fun way to let you know I was thinking about you.”  
  
Jensen sighed.  This was not the place; so not the place.  “I want to continue this later, okay?  There are a million ways I want to thank you that I can’t in front of a line-up of fans.  Let me do that.  Promise?”  
  
Misha’s smile was radiant.  Jensen wanted to bottle it for all those times on set, or back in Austin, that he was missing the man.  “How could I possibly say no to that,” Misha replied with a wink.  “Now, let’s not keep these lovely people waiting any longer.”  
  
The rest of the photo ops went quickly and efficiently.  Jensen’s mood was infectious and the fans could tell.  When he was happy, Misha was happy, and when they were both happy, that kept the atmosphere light and playful.   
  
The rest of the day went equally as well.  Autographs didn’t drag too long into the evening, and before they knew it, most of the cast were sitting around the green room, working through a bottle of wine, congratulating themselves on yet another successful and fun weekend.   
  
It didn’t take long before everyone began trickling out to catch flights and the only ones left were Jensen, Misha, Jared, Rob, and Rich.  Jared was Facetiming with Gen, and Rob and Rich were busy tweeting and chatting, leaving Jensen and Misha to themselves in a quiet corner.  
  
“Tired?” Jensen asked when Misha leaned into him on the couch they were sharing, gently rubbing his unshaven cheek against Jensen’s.  
  
“Completely exhausted.  But hey, I have one more note for you.”  
  
Jensen prepared himself for another post-it, wondering what colour it would be this time, when Misha handed him a piece of pale pink construction paper that had been folded into four.  It had clearly been around for some time and folded and refolded more than once.  Curious, Jensen opened it slowly, surprised to see the silly glitter covered valentine he’d made Misha as a half joke at last year’s con.  
  
The hearts on the front, with the words ‘Happy Valentine’s Day, Love Yourself First’ were a little worse for wear, and the glitter was mostly worn off, but it was still intact.  
  
“You kept this silly thing?” he questioned turning to face Misha on the couch.  
  
“Of course.  Why wouldn’t I?  Open it.”  
  
Jensen carefully opened the card to see that Misha had printed out a poem inside.  He mouthed the words silently as tears prickled at his eyelids.  
  
**_“I want to see you._**  
**_Know your voice._**  
  
**_Recognize you when you_**  
**_first come ‘round the corner._**  
  
**_Sense your scent when I come_**  
**_into a room you’ve just left._**  
  
**_Know the lift of your heel,_**  
**_the glide of your foot._**  
  
**_Become familiar with the way_**  
**_you purse your lips_**  
**_then let them part,_**  
**_just the slightest bit,_**  
**_when I lean into your space_**  
**_and kiss you._**  
  
**_I want to know the joy_**  
**_of how you whisper_**  
**_“more”_**  
  
****_\- Rumi”_  
  
Jensen glanced up to see Misha looking directly into his eyes.  
  
“I know it seems cheesy to give you the same card back, but here’s the thing.  My Grandparents, they passed the same card back and forth for Valentine’s Day the whole time they were married.  They alternated writing in it year after year, and when they ran out of space, they just added more paper.  I always thought it was the sweetest thing.  So, Happy Valentine’s Day, Jen.  I know it’s a few day’s early, but I won’t see you on the day.”  
  
Jensen didn’t know what to say. All of the post-its had been a build-up.  Words weren’t enough to convey just how lucky he was to be loved by such an incredible, kind, beautiful man.  He really did have it all.  Danni, JJ, the twins, Misha, and by extension, Vicki and the kids.  A job he loved, co-workers and friends that would stand by him no matter what.  Jensen was overwhelmed and that single tear, that stupid single Dean-tear, escaped anyway, trickling down his cheek until Misha’s thumb came up to swipe it away.  
  
He pulled Misha into his arms and whispered softly in his ear.  “I may not be able to rip your clothes off and have my way with you this minute, but you better believe that at the next available opportunity, you’re mine, Dmitri.  Mine!”  
  
Misha kissed his neck tenderly.  “Can’t wait, my love.  Can’t wait.”


End file.
